


set wide the window

by ace_corvid



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brief description of a panic attack, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Family Feels, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Sibling Bonding, Trans Male Character, Trans Tim Drake, like. graphic descriptions of gender dysphoria, trans character written by a trans author, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26801215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ace_corvid/pseuds/ace_corvid
Summary: It started with waking up.A pit of dread hung heavy in his stomach in the face of the day, the sun leaking in through the blinds and getting in his eyes. He waved it off, squinting, but the beginnings of a headache seemed to already lurk in his brain. His body lay prone underneath the comforter, still sluggish from sleep, but his mind wasted no time keying into the sick anxiety that plagued him with waking.That was the first sign it was going to be a Day.Great.
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Duke Thomas & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 22
Kudos: 171





	set wide the window

**Author's Note:**

> title from Edith Wharton: “Set wide the window. Let me drink the day.” 
> 
> so this is just a little vent fic bc i had a small dysphoria fit! i moved recently, so i felt quite alone and this ended up happening! fun fact, the outfit tim is described as wearing actually belongs to me, and its the one i wear when im at my most dysphoric.   
> this could easily be set in the 'if you get lost (you can always be found)' verse so i u like this go to check that out!
> 
> thank you for sephie, clark and elise for looking this over idk what i'd do without y'all <3
> 
> so i hope you enjoy, and without further ado, here is the fic!

It started with waking up.

A pit of dread hung heavy in his stomach in the face of the day, the sun leaking in through the blinds and getting in his eyes. He waved it off, squinting, but the beginnings of a headache seemed to already lurk in his brain. His body lay prone underneath the comforter, still sluggish from sleep, but his mind wasted no time keying into the sick anxiety that plagued him with waking.

That was the first sign it was going to be a Day.

 _Great_.

Possible solutions ran through his mind, but he knew it was an exercise in futility. He had resigned himself to that long ago. Physical activity usually helped the most, but that would require getting up and getting dressed, whereas if he just stayed in bed, he could pretend his body didn't exist for a while. This resolution was furthered by the fact that when he reached over to go get his water off his bedside cabinet, his abdomen protested- violently. Tim nearly whimpered under the force of the cramps and he forced himself to go stock-still in an attempt to get them to stop.

And of course, his body took going tense and rigid as an invitation to make his back ache.

This made so much sense actually. Why _wouldn't_ he be PMSing like a bitch? It was just his luck. He didn't know what else he expected.

Although, the burning in his ribs was a new one. Actually, his whole body hurt more than usual, come to think of it. It was just then he remembered he'd been pushed down a fire escape the night before on patrol, and when he looked under his duvet, his skin was unsurprisingly a patchwork quilt of fresh bruises knit together by his scars.

The sight of his unbound chest only worsened the nauseating feeling in his chest.

He was a vigilante. He could handle this. He dealt with worse near daily.

That didn't change the fact that he kind of wanted to cry.

“Okay.” He spoke to himself in the empty room, as if speaking the words into existence made it more likely that he'd follow them. “Just get up. Get up and get dressed. That's step one.”

So he slowly, agonisingly, forced himself out of bed.

His face went blank, suddenly faced with a familiar rushing feeling as he stood up.

He shouldn't be bleeding yet, he wasn't due. He must have been at least a full week early. He hadn't even gotten around to asking Alfred to buy pads yet; he'd have to borrow some of Cass'.

An amazing start to the day, to be sure.

  
  


So he had kind of half failed step one.

He had gotten up. He had _not, in fact,_ gotten dressed.

Damian looked at him with disdain, but Tim couldn't find it within himself to care. He imagined he looked a mess in his oversized leavers hoodie and ratty Christmas sweatpants (it was July) with Grinch decals on them, not even to mention his unbrushed hair and oily face. His fluffy Batman socks were only the tip of the iceberg.

Dick ruffled his hair sympathetically. “You look tired, buddy.”

“I feel tired, Dick.” Tim replied petulantly.

“Not a good day today, huh?” He smiled as he grabbed a box of cereal from the cupboard. Alfred appeared out of nowhere to grab it out of his hands and replace it with three plates of scrambled eggs. Dick thanked Alfred, kissing him on the cheek before sliding into a chair and passing two of the plates to Tim and Damian.

The eggs looked good. Delicious, even. Positively scrumptious. Quite appetising really.

Tim didn't think he could even eat a bite.

He idly pushed them around on his plate while Dick tried not to look concerned as Tim didn't answer. Eventually, he sighed. “Not really, no.”

“A sign of your weak constitution, Drake.” Damian sniffed. He had a small bit of scrambled egg on his nose, ruining the effect. Tim still felt a spike of anger flare up in his chest. He was almost grateful; it was the first thing he'd felt today that wasn't existential dread or self loathing, otherwise he was just... numb.

“Knock it off, Dami.” Dick said cordially, but his eyes were still worried when he ran a thumb over Tim's forehead again. The affectionate touch may have well been heroin for all that Tim sinks into it, prompting Dick run around the table to pull him into a hug. “Are you sick, Tim?”

“No.” Tim replied gruffly, knocking Dick's hand off his forehead when he tried to gauge his temperature. “It's just a Day.”

“Ah.” Dick said sagely. “A Day.”

Damian furrowed his eyebrows across the table. “What do you mean a day? Of course it's the day.”

“Not a day, Dami.” Dick shrugged. “A Day.”

Damian paused for a second in what might have been confusion for a regular kid, before muttering “ _English_.” derisively under his breath and going back to his eggs.

It was at that moment Bruce Wayne walked in, looking immaculate in an inky black suit. He slid his gaze around the kitchen, habitually checking the exits on instinct, but did a double take, eyes falling back onto Tim.

“Tim-” He began, but Tim cut him off, taking a guess at what he was going to say.

“I know I look like a mess.” Tim sighed. “But I'd rather die than get dressed today.”

“Oh, okay.” Bruce marched over, doing the same motion to check his temperature that Dick did. Tim rolled his eyes, but couldn't help leaning into the touch while Damian fumed across from him. “That's fine, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? Bruce only called him that when he was sick enough he thought he wouldn't remember it. How bad did he look?

Dick apparently picked up on the exact same thing because he chuckled fondly, shaking his head. “He's not sick, Bruce. It's just a bit of a Day.”

Understanding lit up Bruce's face. “Ah, a Day. I'll cancel your meetings then.”

At the same time, Tim leapt up ramrod straight and yelled “My meetings!”, Damian threw his fork onto the table and his arms into the air, angrily asking, “What does 'a day' _mean_?” causing quite the commotion at the dining room table.

“Hey, hey.” Dick made a gesture as if he was calming wild animals. “Damian, I'll explain it later, I promise. Tim, little brother, you're not going to your meetings today.”

“I can't believe I _forgot_ Dick, I have to-”

“Tim, baby bird, you're a world-class vigilante. You don't forget anything easily. If you were miserable enough to forget about whatever meetings you have, then you're not well enough to go to them.” Dick tried to reason, but Tim was having none of it.

“I have responsibilities, Dick, I need to go to those meetings, there's so many reports-” Tim began to babble, but a calming hand on his shoulder stopped him.

All these years, and those kind eyes were still the same. They always made him feel like he was 13 again, stood on a doorstep and filled with wonder, armed with a camera and the irrefutable logic that Batman needs a Robin.

Those eyes always said that Robin needs Batman, too.

“Let us handle this for you Tim.” He said, in the voice that was neither Brucie nor Batman, but genuine Bruce. “Take a rest. Go back to bed.”

“The world won't stop turning just because I'm upset, Bruce.”

“The world won't stop turning just because you took a day off, either. Come on, if you can't even eat Alfred's scrambled eggs, something must be wrong. Give us a little bit of the burden to carry, Tim. Let us help you.”

Maybe it says something about Tim that, after all the man has done, trusting Bruce is still as easy as breathing. It's Robin's second nature, right after disobeying direct orders.

Tim didn't voice his surrender, but he did stand up and lean into Bruce's chest, headbutting the man's collar bone. The awful voice in his head whispered that he barely reached it, because he's so short, but it's cut off when Bruce gathered him into his arms.

Tim yelped in surprise as he was lifted off the ground. Dick only laughed, the traitor.

“You look exhausted, Tim. You need to rest.” Bruce said softly as he carried Tim out of the room.

“I don't.” Tim tried to argue, but as he twisted to look at Bruce properly the familiar sharp stabbing pain took up in his abdomen again, making his voice trail off into a whimper. Strangely enough, Tim didn't feel like that helped his case.

Bruce's face was soft, but firm at the same time as he reiterated. “You do, Sweetheart.”

There he went again, with the sweetheart, as if the pure fondness in his voice didn't make Tim want to burst into tears in a completely childish fashion.

They finally made it to Tim's room, and Bruce lightly kicked the door open with his foot. Tim can't really remember the last time Bruce was in his room; he liked to give them their own space.. It was nice, having him in a space that's primarily Tim's own again.

Bruce laid him in the bed and pulled the comforter over him, kissing him on the forehead.

Tim... Tim was so tired. He barely even wanted to acknowledge the fact that he's alive today. But he does know one thing with _absolute_ certainty.

As Bruce got up to leave the room, Tim lurched forward to grab his hand, shrugging off his stomach's protest and the burn of the aches in his head and back.

“No.” Tim thought he sounded pathetic, near begging, but he still couldn't find it within himself to care. “I don't want to be alone. Please. Not right now.”

Bruce froze where he stood, absolutely silent. Tim sniffled, like he was still a child or something. He absently noted that Bruce's once perfect suit was now crumpled from where Tim had curled into his chest. Another thing he ruined, then.

“Ok.” Bruce kept Tim's hand in his as he sat back down. “I'll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

And Tim knew that he would. Bruce knew, on the other hand, that he'd stay long past that. He'd cancel his own meetings if he had to, no matter what Lucius would say. If only so someone was there when Tim woke up.

It was only when Cassandra slipped into the room to curl up next to him, that Bruce finally forced himself to go to work. He'd have much preferred to stay with his son, but- well. He was hardly alone any more.

  
  


Tim woke up with Cass wrapped around him like a puzzle piece, a heating pad wedged between both their stomachs. He knew she'd wake up with even the slightest jostle, so he evened his breathing and tried to lie still for as long as possible. But it was a fool's errand; her dark eyes fluttered open only mere minutes after.

“Feel better?” She asked, tightening the embrace.

“A little. The heating pad helps.” Tim awkwardly tried to shrug while lying down.

“Not body pain.” Cass shook her head insistently and tapped his nose. “Head. What's up here is hurting. Better?”

Dysphoria. She meant the dysphoria.

Was it better? Would it ever be better? He wasn't even binding today. He felt disgusting. Detached. Dread sat like a lump of lead in his stomach. He could barely breathe through it. It was intoxicating in the worst way. Everything was wrong, off, bad.

Fuck. _Fuck_ -

“Calm.” Cass interrupted, her touch on his arms grounding him in reality. But this was his reality. He couldn't escape these feelings; there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

“Little brother.” She insisted, curling in closer. “Breathe.”

Breathing. Oxygen. Those were nice ideas, in theory. Why was it so suffocating in here, why could he feel all this crawling underneath his skin, why couldn't he get out of his head-

A sharp knock at the door made him jump out of his skin. He wheezed as Cass began to make soothing noises next to him, comforting him as best she could with touch and calm noises. She always knew exactly what he needed.

“Sorry.” Tim raised his voice to be heard outside the door, but he knew he sounded like dogshit. “We're closed for today. Try your luck again tomorrow.”

“Oh, closed you say?” Stephanie's cheery voice rang out. “Well in that case, we'll be on our way!”

Tim sighed. There was no way on earth she was leaving that easily.

He's proved correct when he begins to hear the unmistakable sound of his lock being picked. Cass giggled beside him, because she was a traitor, and he knew she knew he didn't really want to be alone.

Seconds later, his door swung open.

“Breaking and entering is a crime.” Tim raised an eyebrow as Stephanie and Duke entered the room.

“So is vigilantism.” Duke snorted, rustling the plastic bag in his hands as he did so. As if the sound reminded him, he jerks up in remembrance and tosses the bag to Tim. “Here, take this.”

“What is it?” Tim sat up, much to Cass's consternation.

“Open it and see, loser.” Steph grinned. She was wearing a bright purple ensemble that made her look a little like a blonde Daphne from Scooby Doo, but he really wasn't in any place to be commenting on anyone's outfit right now, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Yeah, loser.” Duke mimicked cheekily. “Open it.”

It was enough to make Tim laugh, so he opened the bag.

It was filled to the brim with chocolate, skittles, bags of crisps and movies. Steph took a moment to smile at him before shoving a large coffee, still warm, into his hands.

“We don't have to stay, but... if you want us to-” She began, but Tim wasted no time assuring her.

“Yes, I want you to stay.” Tim hoped his voice didn't sound too choked. “You brought me Power Rangers on DVD.”

“Yeah.” Stephanie laughed. “We did.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think, moron? Because I love you and I want you to feel better.”

“And because I also wanted to watch Power Rangers.” Duke added, and laughed outrageously when Stephanie swatted him, accidentally starting a play fight that Cass would get around to joining and winning eventually, Tim was sure.

“Let's invite the others, too.” Tim continued to rifle through the bag. “Though, I don't know why you got DVDs when we have most streaming services.”

“Because Netflix isn't the same.” Stephanie recited, as if she'd had this argument multiple times, while Duke copied her in the background, exaggerating her movements. When she turned back towards him, he was the very picture of innocence.

  
  


They were all crowded on the living room sofa, which was definitely a step up from staying in bed all day. Cass was still plastered to Tim's side, but now Duke was resting his head on Tim's shoulder too.

“I've explained it ten times, Dami.” Dick sounded slightly pained.

“I still believe it is stupid.” Damian said loftily. “There is no Day that is inherently bad. In fact, there is no Day that cannot be made better.”

“I guess so.” Tim replied softly, feeling an unexpected wave of affection for Damian. It was unmistakably his own way of trying to comfort Tim without looking like he was doing it. It was almost cute.

“Shut up,” Stephanie complained, throwing popcorn at them. Dick caught it in his mouth, but Tim and Damian just took it to the face. “Godzilla is on.”

Godzilla was a good movie. Godzilla was good in general. Godzilla didn't care if he actually got dressed today or if he wore a binder.

Neither did his siblings, it seemed.

Tim half played on his phone while half paying attention to the movie, because neither one was enough to fully keep his attention at any given time. Eventually, in the safety of his family and friends, he fell asleep.

He was never going to be truly rid of dysphoria, but with his family to help him through it? He figured he'd be alright.

  
  


He wakes up in the early hours of the morning to the sounds of talking.

“I covered patrol for them, Old Man, that's it. Stop acting so grateful. Being mushy doesn't suit you.” Jason grumbled, marching through the manor and towards the front door.

“I _am_ grateful.” Bruce intoned, but Jason only rolled his eyes.

“I know.” He spat, a mocking lilt to his voice but it was mostly teasing. “You said.”

“You could stay the night.” Bruce offered, an olive branch if there ever was one.

Jason hesitated. “I don't really belong there.” He said, gesturing to the puddle of siblings on the couch, all wrapped up in each other like an amalgamation of Lovecraftian limbs.

“You're my son.” The emotion in his voice was raw, and open. “Of course you do.”

Jason hesitated, and Tim never got to know what he answered before he fell back into the depths of sleep.

(Jason is there in the morning when he wakes up again, drooling on Stephanie's shoulder. All of them are a family, together, and Jason isn't getting out of it that easily.)

  
  


So Tim wakes up, like he always does. It's a brand new day.

And this time, he's looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> NICE i hope u liked it and remember 
> 
> you can find me at:  
> Tumblr: ace-corvid.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: twitter.com/ace_corvid  
> come yell at me!
> 
> thank you so much for reading, see you next time! And if you enjoyed this, a comment would really make my day!


End file.
